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So that was the ball. Beautiful people. Fantastic masks. Some good… - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 1.11 am, Sunday 29th January, 2006
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
Music:Chet Baker - Broken Wing
So that was the ball. Beautiful people. Fantastic masks. Some good friends. Great music. borusa's dance of the GCSE science revision aids.

I had a lousy time. No, I had lots of good times amongst a general cloud of crap which has proceeded to darken today. I shall rant here because, well, I've had a couple and I can. The last time I felt like this I couldn't tell anyone, for reasons I shall not go in to. This was not anyones fault. The organisers did a sterling job, the people were lovely, especially dear strongtrousers and the_alchemist. It is a purely personal thing. I walked into that room and every conversation I had just fizzled. I was in no fit state to be sociable, so I spent most of the night on the dance floor, which I kind of expected. But, to be honest, the music wasn't loud enough. Not in style, but volume. I stood in front of the speakers whenever possible, partly because that was the back of the floor, but partly because I lost the rhythm of the music from the other end of the room. And I know I get laughed at when I dance. I assume I look comical from the other side. But last night I *felt* like I was being laughed at. Somehow much worse. I think I heard it at one point, but I didn't want to look. The corset just pissed me off after all those weeks in construction. I think I may have even broke it. The carefully made zanni mask was lifeless, no play at all, and by the end of the night was crumbling. The King and Queen competition made me feel incredibly single and, well, inhibited. When they were tossing the red petals for the finale, I had a basket violently thrown at me which caught me on the temple and I almost went for the girl that threw it. I made a total of no new friends, kissed no one. I did say hello to an old friend, who was too pissed to acknowledege me, even if she would have recognised me. And then, come not much passed midnight, it all ended and everyone fucked off. Thankfully dear strongtrousers stayed with me for a port and kebab before disappearing. But still I was very lonely. By the time I'd seen M off, everyone else, although maybe not in bed, had deserted the bar. So I picked up a nightcap and dragged my way upstairs to the draughty room where I could here every drunk as they passed, and got the earliest night's sleep I have had in about a month.

The thing that keeps coming back to me though, and it's the thing I hate to think about, is how much that just cost me. The room at the hotel was a very kind late christmas present, that I now feel unbelievably guilty about. Even without that, the ball cost me three figures. Easily. Ironic that you have to sell a kidney to pay your bar tab. Personally I would have got as much enjoyment from tarting up and going to an anonymous goth club, or even from crawling to the seediest rock dive I could find.

Then this morning I did tea in the union, where billbo joined me. Then on to lunch at some new italian. Ice cream at G&Ds south. Too much cider in Far from the madding crowd, where we ran into Kit and Zeb. The same girl who had been drunk came in with a friend for a swift one. Dave asked if I wanted to see if she recognised me in the daylight. Why bother, I thought.

There was also the matter of the panto cod. [1] This is probably why I'm so pissed off tonight. I have a fear of being forgotten, which makes lying on your own after what was meant to be such a big night particularly chilling. When I worked on the playhouse panto this year, I explicitly asked at least three people to call me when the cod was on. And they didn't. None of them. I'll never tell you this in person, but that really hurt.

[1] For anyone who doesn't know, it is a pantomime tradition that somewhere near the end of the run they have a cod performance of the show where the technicians play the actors performing a highly original and normally drunkenly improvised version of the script. The actors, as well as the management and any random friends, sit in the audience. Heckling is expected, but very rarely are things thrown. This then runs into the end of show party.

I'm sorry my journal has become ranty of late. Before anyone thinks I'm going crazy, this is what I tend to be like in winter and all I really need is to vent it. Which I just did. Already I feel better. Already I'm thinking of the good things, and there were a lot of them. I called an old friend tonight, and although we basically bitched for an hour, I felt so good for having talked to a wonderous voice from the past.
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User: ms_saffie
Date: 11.40 am, Sunday 29th January, 2006 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Hope you feel better after some sleep. I know what you mean about events that turn out so crappy after lots of planning - I'm thinking of Trinity ball a few years ago. Didn't help that my partner refused to dance. At all. Phone is always on, you're welcome to call.
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters: Cartoon
User: weaselspoon
Date: 10.03 am, Monday 30th January, 2006 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
I can't remember a ball that was worth the effort, in fact. I should just avoid things with ball in the title. (insert complicated wordplay that my sleepy head can't cope with here)
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Marcus Ericsson 'Strongtrousers'
User: strongtrousers
Date: 12.32 pm, Sunday 29th January, 2006 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Sorry I didn't make it out yesterday, by the time LARP finished, we'd gone to the pub for the debrief, and I'd ferried half of Oxford to their destinations I was no company at all. See you in Cambridge soon?
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters: Qui-Gon Jinn
User: weaselspoon
Date: 10.01 am, Monday 30th January, 2006 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Keyword:Qui-Gon Jinn
Too bloody right you will. Possibly even Wednesday. :o)
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